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It’s been a bit since I last posted. My heart has been on more journeys to see myself in the big picture. I think the lesson could be “It’s not about me.” My heart is so inherently selfish, self-seeking and self-promoting – but then that is basic human nature. Some call it survival instinct. I don’t want to just survive. I want to live in a world where we value each other AT LEAST as much as we value ourselves (we want others to make it too?). So, what’s the point? Are the homeless invisible to you? Do you decline eye contact because you don’t want to encourage the prospect of unwanted behavior? Do you not want to think about the idea that this could happen to you? Do you want to “tell” the other person that they deserve homelessness because they had to have been irresponsible in the first place to be homeless? I defy anyone to be able to say one word as to how that person got there. Yes, there are some who work a system to get by (but isn’t that true everywhere?), but the one remaining fact is that these are individuals of innate worth. They matter. Risk a smile and say “Hi! Make eye contact and let someone know that they exist in the eyes of another person. Everyone needs to know that they matter. It could literally be the difference in that person’s life of whether to keep trying, or to literally give up through any number of self-destructive acts such as drugs, alcohol, prostitution, or suicide. It cost you little – it has a world of potential.
I hesitate to put my next thoughts in writing, but I don’t think that I am the only one who struggles with this. I went to the Cherry Street Mission this week with high hopes and anticipation. I understood what homelessness was. I understood about how people get there and get stuck there. I knew that this mission gives hope and a real, concrete way to get out through tutoring, job training, and housing. In the dark, in the devastatingly stark abandonment of the block where the dining hall stood, men were milling around in the cold as two white women drove up in a late model convertible. We were the first to arrive from our group. Did I feel safe? No. All the vaguely accumulated cautions came to the surface – all the stereotypes that arise from fear. We pulled into the empty parking lot next to the building to wait for the rest of the group. Two men approached on their way to where ever they were going to spend the night, one raised his hand, smiled broadly, and called out a “Hi!” Score one point for progress against stereotypes that are subconscious generalizations (remember, I already had an intellectual base of truth). In a few minutes, two other people in our group showed up and we went in. Men streamed out into the night because the hall was closing. We stood and waited for someone to find the person in charge. This was it. Here I was. Our job was to clean the clinic rooms where medical students give rudimentary health care. It was grimy. It was also a storage area. For men and women pushed to the edges of life. Were they just grateful that this clinic service was available? That someone cared in some way (a grimy, “you fit in here along with the stored items” way)? Someone in our group commented that the dining hall could use some air freshener after we had cleaned the clinic with a fresh-smelling product. The hall smelled of greasy hair and a certain smokiness clung to everything in the room. I said, “That’s the smell of homelessness. It’s not going to go away.”
I have different thoughts now that I have expressed myself here, but let me go back to what I took away that night after being slapped in the face by reality. I felt fear. I felt recoil from what I saw. Reality vs. “good intentions” is a big check-in point for stepping up or stepping away. The men and women I met were what they were. The woman who supervised them was no-nonsense and expected them to step up and do their jobs at the hall. She in essence treated them with dignity because she expected them to act like responsible, productive people. So, here I was. Could I put off my conscious and subconscious thoughts of being someone who didn’t “belong” there? Someone who did something and left? Just “cleaned a room”? That was the problem. The old “us” and”them” mental division.
So, what am I going to do with all of this junk swirling around in my head? When I clean those clinic rooms, I am saying that whoever goes there deserves a clean clinic, not just “take whatever you can get and feel lucky”. Is it a small thing? You notice when something is gross, but what if you are used to gross and see nice? They’ll notice. It’s just a couple of rooms getting cleaned (that were getting little cleaning, if any, before). Someone will notice. That’s how little things grow. That’s how lasting change happens. Little things take root easier than big things. They are easier to tend to and give courage that a little more can be safely added. Do you see where this is going? If I didn’t get to this place, I would have freaked and run and nothing would have been done. I’m all for little things. Those are the sustainable things because they can be tended to on the personal investment level. It’s my own contribution, not a big, faceless agenda-laden project to “end homelessness”. I know that I just nibbled off a a hangnail on the elephant, but the elephant is glad because he knew it was there. Now, to keep it trimmed, and to give myself a chance to get to know the elephant on a more personal level and build a relationship.
So, I just got done reading Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson of the Central Institute (see blog roll). What a different take on what is going on in Afghanistan and Pakistan… My site is not about politics, but about humanitarian acts of decency, so I will refrain from any comments on my political conclusions. Mortenson’s mission of education as empowerment is the common thread in everything I have learned since my “awakening”. I now understand the truth behind the old 60’s bumper sticker, “What if they held a war and nobody came?”. Education gives options and alternatives. To everyone. Supporting this goal means giving up the idea of “us” and “them” and replaces it with “we”. Is it too expensive to the conscience to consider others “not like us” as being as valuable as ourselves? Take some time to read the book and challenge yourself.
When we don’t give up (or give up), when we falter and doubt, when we feel the passion of a new beginning even when it doesn’t come to pass, we get a glimpse at who we are. Sometimes the loss or the abandonment of a dream helps us to gauge whether we are on track or not. Sometimes a seemingly negative event is a means to fine tune our search. On Martin Luther King Jr. day, my friend was not dressed correctly for a door to door fire safety campaign in the bitter cold and I ended up staying home. I was disappointed because this was an opportunity to do community service. Instead, I watched the series America Beyond The Color Line. What grabbed me was an interview with an articulate prison inmate who was passionate about the need for literacy and clear communication skills as tools for getting beyond the “prison” of circumstances that trapped incarcerated blacks and others. There is a “mission” group here in Toledo, Ohio that is doing something-creating job opportunities, providing housing for newly employed homeless so they can save for an apartment, and a literacy program. A group of people, including myself, are going to start visiting this month. Is this what I have been preparing for?
School is done for the semester and I just got over a nasty bout with the flu that has had me out of commission since Christmas day. I may not be going back to school next semester, but my heart has been broken for the suffering people around the world. This last week was devastating for me when I watched all of the destruction on the TV. Voyeurism is crippling. I felt all of the horror and loss without hope. It was in-your-face “don’t even dare to think things can ever get better.” But here I go again. It can get better for one person. If I let go of what the world wants me to believe is hopeless, and remember how to eat an elephant (one bite at a time), my heart and passion will stay alive. Today I call my friends at Hope Worldwide to do some volunteering. There’s just nothing like joining with passionate people who are making a difference to help a person remember that there is a positive way to go. Surround yourself with what you want to become.
Yes, real and perceived… Mr. Howlingmad has a very good point to his comment on consumerism. I think that the bottom line on what we do and why is based on our perception of relative comfort. If we can rationalize our situations and choices, we don’t have to deal with the implications that go with them. So, if I (insert situation here), I can blame it on or relate it to (insert situation here), and can feel relieved because it could be worse or there is nothing I can do about it anyway. Mind eased, and comfort level returned to “do-able”. Even the most horrific scenario will fit, because our minds are amazing things. Of course, it does come with a cost. Comfort is like a mummy - you have to wrap yourself up in it until you can’t see anything else.
Billions are spent by corporations to advertise valueless products such as cigarettes and Starbucks. A consumer rebellion of one person might not put a dent in big business, but could do wonders for that individual’s conscience. Because of the marketing process, we have been conditioned into believing that there are certain things that we must have in order to achieve comfort of mind. It could be something as innocent as the softness of toilet paper – that’s not a high end item by any means, and I’m not advocating picking up a pile of corn cobs out in someone’s field, even if they are free. My point is that we don’t think in real (i.e. relative) terms about what we do in the consumer world. If we are modest in our habits, we congratulate ourselves. Consuming is not the problem. The promotion of selfishness through consumerism is the problem. It dulls our minds by diverting thoughts away from others and onto our self. Here’s a little exercise for the next trip out into the world – look at a random individual and ”see” them as a person of worth. What do you feel? *Note of caution – it may bring up disturbing feelings because this is at direct odds with self thinking or unconscious stereotyping.
When I started to read about watch dog organizations, I thought they were less than useless because they had no power to enforce what they were telling governments to do, even if the government agreed to abide by the guidelines. The guidelines were noble, necessary, and in theory do-able, but if the government had 5 years to implement and report on their progress, who was going to get after them in those 5 years if they were doing nothing, or worse, and what was the punishment if they failed to comply? After putting this depressing thought aside, I went on to think of positive responses to poverty and inequality. Over time, the thought occurred to me that these groups are useful precisely because they are ankle biters. They don’t go away even if they are too small, and have little, or no enforcement power. They are the missing conscience of big government – even if they don’t quite get it right with policy. I know you can’t legislate morality, but you can stand up and give witness to a group of people who are being denied basic human rights. So bite on watch dogs.
